


"Five More Minutes, John."

by Johnlockthedoors



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Johnlock Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:58:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1913583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlockthedoors/pseuds/Johnlockthedoors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fact : John Watson was not gay.</p>
<p>  Fact : John Watson enjoyed being with him. (Body parts in the fridge and all.)</p>
<p>  Fact : John Watson, despite being straight, had actually fallen in love with Sherlock Holmes.</p>
<p>  Fact : Sherlock was in love with John Watson.</p>
<p>  Fact : Sherlock was absolutely terrified and had no idea what he was going to do about any of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Five More Minutes, John."

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tindomerelhloni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tindomerelhloni/gifts).



> Tindomerelhloni because she's helped me through a really hard time in my life and she always seems to believe in me, especially when I no longer believe in myself.
> 
> \-- Short and to the point. That's new! ;)

  John sits at the table in the kitchen sipping his tea and looking through the morning paper. It's warm in London now, the heat of the summer upon them and the rays of sun beaming in through large windows. He notices the flat needs dusting, badly and makes a mental note to take care of it at a later time, when Sherlock is not at home. He is mid sip when he hears, no, feels a presence behind him. He doesn't have to look to know who it is.

  "Morning, John." that deep, rumbling voice says from somewhere far too close to his left ear. "M-Morning, Sherlock." He manages to say, his voice betraying the trembling of his entire body now. "Would you like some tea?" He manages again.

  Sherlock moves to grab the news section of the paper and lingers for a few moments and John feels warmer than he did. Not that he ever expected Sherlock to be cold. In fact, he knew differently, he knew, all too well, from working and living with him, that Sherlock's body temperature was warmer than most. John wondered if he knew. If Sherlock knew just how warm he really was. If he knew how that warmth had made John feel, not just now but always. On cases in the bitter cold of winter when he stood a little closer in hopes of sharing in some of that warmth. When Sherlock had gotten himself injured and he had to remove clothing and John had to force himself to be the professional he was rather than the excited teenager he felt like. Most of all. He wondered if Sherlock had bothered to notice or deduce just how much closer John wanted to be to him in spite of the already rising summer temperatures.

  "Course." Sherlock says, now sitting at the table across from him. "What?" John asks, a blush quickly rising to his cheeks. Sherlock glances up from the paper. "Tea, John...You offered me tea. Are you not awake yet?" John's head spins as his body floods him with relief. "Right...Yeah. Tea, great." He smiles and moves to the counter to make it.

  Sherlock is in the way. There is no nicer way to put it. He is sitting too close to the counter and John has no other option but to brush up against him while he is making the tea. He moves behind him to grab the milk and when he places a hand on Sherlock's shoulder to let him know he's there he feels a surprising intake of breath. Or perhaps he imagines it. Wishful thinking? Sherlock doesn't speak but he does relax a little more. John realizes his hand is still on the other's shoulder and quickly removes it. He finishes making Sherlock's tea and reaches around him to set it on the table. He does this, for no other reason than the pleasure he gets from being pressed so close to Sherlock's body and feel the warmth of his back radiate through John's chest. He has to fight the urge to wrap his arms around Sherlock and breathe him. Instead he lingers for a quick moment and then moves, all too suddenly, back to where he was seated before.

  "Well, John," Sherlock spoke. "What do you say? Fancy a walk around Regents Park?" John was taken back and kind of surprised at the question. "This for a case then? Lestrade phone you this morning or your brother?" Sherlock looked up and made eye contact with John and smiled his smile that he had only for John. "No, John. No cases at the moment, I'm afraid." John moved to pour himself some cereal and continued talking "Well, what's this then? You don't do mundane. You never have. So what's this walk around the park business all about?" Sherlock's smile broke into a grin that John couldn't see with his back turned to him. "You're right, I don't." John giggled and responded "Well then, why?" He could hear Sherlock move, he placed his cup in the sink and spoke unexpectedly. "I'll go get ready then, shall I?" John noticed the coffee cup and realized Sherlock hadn't eaten anything. "No. You should eat something. It's hot today, you'll get sick if you go out without eating. I'm pouring you some cereal. Now eat, doctor's orders."

  He placed his and Sherlock's bowls next to each other on the table and Sherlock smirked. He walked back and moved his stool, a little closer than necessary, to John's. They sat at the table eating and John couldn't move without feeling Sherlock next to him. He started to wonder when exactly it was that he started to desire closeness with the other man. He had always considered himself straight up until he met Sherlock and then that all went out the window when the man opened his beautiful mouth. He could still remember it. Sherlock, in Bart's lab, under those bright lights that should make nobody look that good. He was standing over an experiment and stood straight up when John was introduced to him. As if it wasn't enough that he was beautiful he had to open that incredibly delicious looking mouth of his and speak. John likens his voice to deep thunder rolling in the distance. Not so loud and overbearing that you feel threatened but not so quiet that you aren't aware it could completely wreck you, if given the opportunity. Well, wreck John it did. As soon as he spoke all hopes of John ever fully considering himself 100% heterosexual were dashed, gone, disintegrated into tiny particles and dispersed into the atmosphere and John could care less about recovering them.

  He knew, despite his best efforts at finding and maintaining a girlfriend, that at that very moment, he became loyal to this man. Loyal? No, not quite. He belonged to Sherlock and he wouldn't deny him anything. John had never been such a pushover. He had never been a 'yes man' or just did what he was told because he was told to do it. With Sherlock, it was different. He wanted to impress him, sure, but that wasn't nearly all of it. If he was honest, he wanted to be allowed to stay next to Sherlock and to continue to be impressed by him. He knew the brilliance of this man and had fallen, head over heels, wholly and painfully in love with him. John knew it would not be easy, given Sherlock's disinterest, but he was, most certainly, not a quitter. He remained and Sherlock relied on him more and more. They lived together, in some mad form of harmony, a harmony that made sense to only them. It was insane and eloquent. It was maddening and comforting. It was painful and yet, in that pain, he felt the greatest pleasure he has ever known. Love was a fickle thing, but John Watson was nothing if not patient. _  
_

  Sherlock finished his breakfast and spoke. "I need to shower. You finish eating and then after, will you join me?" John's intake of breath happened at the wrong time. He was coughing and talking and sputtering. "W-What....Are you? J-Join you, where?!" He coughed out? Sherlock looked at him puzzled. "Really John, do keep up. The park! I want to go for a walk." John's coughing eased and his heart began to slow. "Sorry, I just, er...Y-yeah. Yes. I'll join you, Sherlock. I'd love to." Sherlock grinned at him and got up to head to the shower. "Alright, I'll be a minute. Please don't check the site yet. I really would rather not have to work on a day like this." John was shocked. He had never heard Sherlock blatantly ignore work like that before. He shrugged and called back "Okay and don't use all the hot water. Mrs. Hudson will play hell."

  With that he went upstairs to dress. He didn't know why but he felt like he had to wear something special for this. It was hot so he didn't need a jumper or his usual button down dress shirts. He eyed his favorite blue tee shirt, it bring's out his eyes, or so he was told by many girls in the past. He grabbed the shirt and his best tan, khaki shorts. He ran his comb through his hair and rushed downstairs where he noticed the bathroom was free. He walked in to brush his teeth and wash his face. Upon leaving he noticed Sherlock had chosen a similar outfit only much sexier. He was all long limbs and lean muscle in a white v-neck tee shirt and black khaki shorts. Damn but did they look like a couple going for a romantic stroll. John just smiled and it was returned with what John could only describe as angelic with a hint of the devil inside. Just what was this man planning?

  "Ready, John?" Sherlock asked. "Ready." John responded and they turned to head downstairs. Outside 221B the sun was bright and the city was busy and louder than normal. "After you." John spoke and Sherlock responded by grabbing John's hand and leading him to the nearest coffee house. "Sher-Sherlock?...What?" He was jogging a bit now to keep up with him and he could hear happiness in the other man's voice. "This shop John, it has the best pastries and french macaroons you'll ever taste outside of Paris. Come along."

  And so John let himself be pulled in whichever direction Sherlock wanted. They made it a few feet from the coffee house when John couldn't take it anymore. He pulls the other's hand, forcing him to stop. Sherlock whirls around and looks at John worried, curious and a bit nervous?

  "John? What's wrong?" His eyes are bright and sincere and in that moment John can't seem to speak his original thoughts. Instead he walks up closer to Sherlock smiles and says "You don't have to drag me, Sherlock. I already said I would walk with you. Let's take our time. if enjoying the day is what you truly want then let's enjoy it together, shall we?" With that Sherlock smiled and glanced down at their hands and then back up at John. "Oh. I-I didn't realize, I...I'm sorry, John." and attempted to let John's hand go. "Hey." John squeezes Sherlock's hand and looks him straight in the eyes, asking, hoping. He shrugs gently and smiles a very shy smile. "I don't mind." "Are you sure?" Sherlock asks, also surprised and hoping. "Yes, Sherlock. I'm sure."

  They continue into the shop and John allows Sherlock to order a coffee for him and some sweets. Once outside they began walking towards the park but he noticed Sherlock's hand had not yet taken his. He does notice, however, that Sherlock's hand brushes against the back of his every so often almost as if asking permission. He didn't respond until he caught the other man stealing a glance at him and then down at their hands before biting his lip and turning away. John smiled and his heart swelled with affection for Sherlock. He decided he would take pity on the younger man and when Sherlock's hand brushed his again he turned his palm and caught his hand in a warm embrace of fingers. Sherlock glanced over once and John could swear he saw the man blush. Did Sherlock blush? Did he make Sherlock blush? It would certainly seem so. He chose, in good taste and even better manners, to let it go. Embarrassing him is not what he was hoping today would be about.

  "This coffee is delicious, Sherlock. How have we not been going there all along?" Sherlock looked over at him with a warm smile and said "New owners and apparently they make the best french macaroons, or so says Lestrade."

  John nodded as they came into the park. It was not as busy as he would expect it to be. They made their way to a very tall, very old looking tree in the middle of the park. There was a picnic table next to it and Sherlock set his drink and the bag of sweets on it. He motioned for John to sit next to him and so John sat down. At first he thought, perhaps a little too close but Sherlock didn't seem to mind at all, so he stayed. They sipped their coffee in silence and Sherlock pushed the bag over into the space between their cups.

  "Go ahead, try one." John reached into the bag and pulled out a small, pink pastry. "So, this is a macaroon?" He asked curiously. "Yes, they are quite popular, I'm told." He reached in and grabbed one himself. A purple one, his favorite color. He took a sip of his coffee and John did the same. "Cheers." John said and tapped his pastry against Sherlock's. "Cheers." He responded happily. They bit into the macaroons at the same time and hummed in pleasure. "My God, this is heavenly." John said after finishing his. Sherlock did the same and sipped his coffee. "I agree. We'll definitely be going there again. There are more in there, I think I'll save mine for after dinner tonight. A treat." He smiled at John and John nodded. "Yeah, sounds like a good idea."

  Once again they sat in silence. Both men, enjoying their gourmet coffee and the sights, smells and sounds of the park on a summer day. John finished and noticed Sherlock did as well. He looked around for a trash can and spotted one a few feet away from where they walked in. He disposed of their cups while Sherlock got up and walked over towards the tree and took a seat on the grass.

  "You'll ruin your shorts." John teased. "I'm fine. Come sit with me." Sherlock responded. John walks over and takes a seat next to him on the grass. "It's always so beautiful here, John." John turns to look at Sherlock as he continues. "I used to come here all the time as a little boy. It was my favorite spot in London." John is suddenly so overwhelmed that Sherlock is sharing such intimate details about his childhood that he almost forgets to breathe. "Why did you stop? I mean, you obviously love it here. Why not continue?" Sherlock, for all that John knew he tried to hide it, looked sad. "I used to come here all the time." And John thought it odd that he would repeat himself. "I'd bring my dog, Red-beard. We'd play for hours, I'd lose track of time and Mummy would have to come collect me." John felt such warmth then, not from the man's body heat, but from his heart. "It was the only place I could go and the only time I had away from my mind. When Red-beard and I would play minutes felt like seconds and hours like minutes. My mind wasn't trying to work anything out or attempt to process some foreign emotion it didn't understand. I could just let go and relax and...h-have fun." John was stunned by this unknown history of Sherlock's. He had a million questions but only one he both wanted and didn't want to ask. "So, why then?...." Sherlock raised his hand and waved the question away. "It's not a difficult deduction, John. I think you know why. The point is that it has been years and to be completely honest I don't even know why I chose to come today."

  John wanted to grab him then and pull him close. He wanted to protect him from any feelings of hurt and pain and grief. Instead he placed his hand over Sherlock's and gently squeezed it in his. Sherlock turned his palm and held John's hand in his. John took a deep breath, hoping against all hope that Sherlock wouldn't pull away with his next move. He shuffled much closer to Sherlock so that they were now touching from Shoulder to hip. Sherlock just leaned back against the, surprisingly comfortable, tree and sighed. Taking this as a good sigh John did the same and then rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

  "Nice, this." John says as he relaxes under the shade of the tree. "Mmm." Sherlock leans against it with his eyes closed and his legs stretch out before him. John takes a deep breath before asking his next question. "Sherlock?" "Yes, John?" He pauses for a moment before continuing. "What is today about? I mean, this hand holding and touching....You hate it when others touch you." Sherlock's eyes don't open but he does let out a long sigh. "I...I don't mind so much, when it's you doing the touching, John. However, if it makes you uncomfortable, we don't have to." John sits upright then, turning around to face his friend. "No. It doesn't make me uncomfortable at all. It's ahh....it's quite the opposite, in fact." Sherlock's eyes open then, as he turns to look John in the eyes. "John, remember  when we met. I told you I was married to my work. You acted as if you weren't interested. Why?"

  John should have blushed then. He should have felt the heat in his face and embarrassment and fear. Instead he felt confident. He felt as if he was finally having the conversation he had been longing to have for months. He just smiled and glanced down at their hands, still intertwined and holding tight to one another. He then looked up, into Sherlock's eyes. He loved his eyes. Pale blue eyes with hints of green and specks of gold. Breathtaking, though they were, they were not quite as breathtaking as his lips. Lips from which the most beautiful voice boomed. It didn't matter what that voice was saying because John loved it regardless. The rumble, like not so distant thunder, could be both a comfort and a warning. It demanded attention and instilled fear. It could be both incredible and intimidating. Much like Sherlock himself. No, John was anything but afraid and embarrassed. He was excited, intrigued and most of all, he was ridiculously happy.

  "I didn't want to face it at the time. Honestly, Sherlock until I met you I had always considered myself straight. I've never had any previous relationships or sexual encounters with other men. I'd never felt an attraction to any male person, ever. I've had the chance, mind you. I was in the army, after all. I stitched up so many naked men in so many different ares of the body. I've seen countless men in the nude for various health related issues and never once has my sexual orientation come into question." "Until?" Sherlock cut him off. John grinned excitedly. "Until I met you." "Me?" Sherlock's eyes widened as John continued. "Yes, you. I don't think I'm gay. I never have and to be honest, I still have absolutely no attraction to other men..." "John, you're not making sense. Please do get to the point." "Sherlock, I'm attracted to you. In fact, I am very attracted to you. I love the way I feel when I am with you. I love when we're running around London chasing serial killers. I love arguing over experiments left in the fridge or microwave. I love lazy Sundays in with you, where you stay in your dressing gown all day and complain that you're bored. I love having tea in the morning and reading the paper with you. I love waking up from a nightmare and coming downstairs to find you playing the violin. I...I love coming to the park and having coffee and french macaroons and holding hands and having a cuddle under a tree with you." Sherlock rolled his eyes but his smile and slight blush gave him away. "I do not cuddle, John." John laughed before he responded. "Yeah you do and you enjoy every moment of it. You might not enjoy when others touch you Sherlock but you've never been afraid to tell them not to. Something I have not had the misfortune of hearing. You never tell me to stop touching you. In fact, you seem to enjoy it whenever I do." Sherlock's eyes shot from their hands to John's face in surprise. "Oh? How do you figure that, John?"

  To make his point John nudged Sherlock back towards the tree. In much the same position he was in previously. John too leaned back, only this time he took Sherlock's arm and wrapped it around his shoulders and leaned into him laying his head on Sherlock's warm chest. Sherlock's breath shuddered and hitched and when John wrapped an arm around his waist he stopped breathing altogether.

  "Whenever you're ready Sherlock." John said with a smirk the other man couldn't see. "Ready f-for what, John?" John smiled and nudged himself closer to Sherlock's body. "Exactly my point." John said as he closed his eyes. "I...I don't know what it is you're expecting me to do, John."

  John nuzzled his head into Sherlock's chest and breathed in his scent. God but this man was warm. Definitely no more winter nights in a cold bed for either of them. From now on, John was making sure that just didn't happen. Not when he now knew that this was allowed. Sherlock, for all intents and purposes, seemed to be asexual. John didn't mind. He would find a way around the sexual aspect of the entire thing and he was happy to just have this. He suddenly became very aware that Sherlock had wrapped his arms tight around John, holding him close and his breathing was heavier than normal. His heart was pounding and he was trembling. John decided to have mercy on him and spoke first.

  "You see but do not observe, Sherlock." Nothing....no answer, not a sound. John continued. "You're not pushing me away Sherlock. In fact, you're holding me closer. You never push me away, you never tell me to stop when I touch you and you never ask me to leave when you are frustrated, bored or upset." Sherlock bit his lip and just held John impossibly closer. John tightened his grip on Sherlock and continued to speak. "Sherlock? I want to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that?" "Always, John. I'll always employ honesty with you." "Great because the thing is you might not want to answer my questions and that's fine but don't lie, alright?" Sherlock shook his head and nuzzled the top of John's. Breathing in his hair and no doubt cataloging the shampoo and hair products he used that day and the texture and smell of his hair for later use. "Have you ever had any kind of romantic or sexual relationship before?" Sherlock didn't speak at first. Though, his breath hitched and he opened and closed his mouth several times before simply saying "No." "Have you had any other friends before me?" Sherlock looked pained. He looked upset and embarrassed and afraid. "Hey! Hey, I am not asking to mock you, Sherlock. I just genuinely want to know. Like I said you don't have to answer these questions. I have no right to ask them either so if this conversation is..." "No. I..It's not bothering me. I just, I've always known it to be fact but when someone actually asks me it's just suddenly very real and, to be honest, it hurts. A lot. I don't attract a lot of positive attention with my personality, John. You know that. I repel people with my intelligence, my deductions and my inability to...feel things." The last two words were spat out. Not in a derogatory way, but in a self loathing, unsure and self conscious kind of way. "I understand but Sherlock, I want you to know I'm not going anywhere okay? I am here to stay and I like being with you. I like spending time with you and, god help me, even when you call me an idiot for not being as quick as you are in your deductions I still bloody love you!"

  Sherlock's breath stopped then and so did John's. Understanding hit them both and John was every bit as surprised as Sherlock had been. Their eyes met and time stopped. Frozen in an accidental but not regretful, moment in time. John's heartbeat matched Sherlock's racing one. Both men staring into each others eyes, waiting for the other to make a move, break the silence, say something meaningful or not. Anything to stop the tension. Sherlock, surprising both of them, made the first move.

  It was hot. It was soft and hard at the same time. It had so much pressure that it almost knocked John Watson back onto the ground. It lasted forever but was over in seconds. It was probably the best high Sherlock had ever had and John had ever indulged in. It was perfection in the heat of a midday, summer's kiss and it was Sherlock's.

  "Sher-Sherlock....Oh my God." John could barely breathe at what just happened. He couldn't think straight. His mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts and questions and need and want and more, more, more! "John....I'm sor..." "NO!" John stopped him. "No. Sherlock, don't you dare. Don't. Okay? Just shut up and do that to me again."

  Sherlock's head spun with everything that was happening. John Watson, holding his hand. John Watson, cuddling under a tree with him in a public park. John Watson, listening to stories of his youth and private life. John Watson, holding him. John Watson confessing his love for him and, most of all, John Watson letting Sherlock kiss him. He'd enjoyed it too, it would seem. Immensely since he was practically begging for more.

  Fact : John Watson was not gay.

  Fact : John Watson enjoyed being with him. (Body parts in the fridge and all.)

  Fact : John Watson, despite being straight, had actually fallen in love with Sherlock Holmes.

  Fact : Sherlock was in love with John Watson.

  Fact : Sherlock was absolutely terrified and had no idea what he was going to do about any of it.

  "Sherlock? You okay?" He was sitting there, still red faced and swollen lips. He was panting and looked like a scared puppy. He was trembling and, although John was sure it was just his imagination, he looked about to break down and cry. "I....I've never had so much as a friend before, John. Never. I don't have friends. People just don't like me. I've never done that before you and I don't even know where it came from and I want it again and I'm terrified and I don't know what's wrong with me and I feel strange and I'm babbling and you have to stop me, John. Please! Tell me what's going...Mmmm!!!"

  John stopped his rambling with a soft but firm kiss. He was gentle but it was just enough to let Sherlock know that he was there. To try to calm him. He did the one thing he had been longing to do since he met the man. He brought one hand up to cup Sherlock's cheek, stroking his ridiculous cheekbone. The other hand he laced through his gorgeous, soft black curls. He ran his nails lightly down Sherlock's scalp to the back of his neck and gently pulled. Sherlock's moan was louder than he would have normally liked in a public setting but at that moment John just didn't care. He was kissing Sherlock Holmes. He had confessed love to Sherlock Holmes. He had just vowed his entire life to Sherlock Holmes. Nothing was ever pulling him away from Sherlock Holmes.

  John bit and licked and teased Sherlock's lips until he was a moaning, trembling mess just from being kissed. John felt light headed and dizzy from lack of oxygen but he couldn't bring himself to care. All his thoughts were narrowed down to the obscenely soft cupids bow lips that were pressed so deliciously against his own. No man, he thought, should have such a gorgeous mouth. Especially not this man. John licked between Sherlock's lips and, as if he'd done it hundreds of times before hand, Sherlock opened his lips and allowed John to explore. Well, explore he did. John's tongue danced softly, gently with Sherlock's eliciting yet another delicious moan out of the beautiful man's throat. He moved his tongue to explore Sherlock's teeth, his lips, back to his tongue and then he pulled back long enough for Sherlock's tongue to dart out begging for more. John smiled against his lips and Sherlock was undone when John had taken this opportunity to grasp and suck on Sherlock's tongue and pull it into his own mouth. Sherlock's hand grabbed John's face and his other the back of John's head. He pulled him closer, needing him, begging him not to stop. Never stop! John was the one moaning now. His body reacting to being kissed instead of being the one doing the kissing. Both his hands were on Sherlock's face now, rubbing circles into his cheekbones and pulling softly on Sherlock's ears. That was when Sherlock's eyes flew open and he pulled back so quick John almost fell face first onto the ground.

  "Sherlock, what is it, what's wrong?" Sherlock looked confused and nervous and unsure. "Are you alright? Did I do something you didn't like...I'm sorry, Sherlock, I don't know what your limits are, I mean we haven't exactly done this before...Please just talk to me." Sherlock looked away and then back at John when he felt the other's hand on his chin softly turning him. "I...I don't...This doesn't happen to me, John. It's never happened to me." John just looked puzzled. "It...It was just a kiss, Sherlock. I thought you were enjoying it, I thought..." "No, it wasn't the kiss. I liked the kiss. The kiss was, was perfect until you..." "Until I what, Sherlock? If I did something you don't like, please tell me. I won't do it again, assuming I am allowed to kiss you again." John looked at him asking and hoping. "Of course, you can do that whenever you want to John, I rather enjoyed the kiss but..." He looked down, down to where he was suddenly very aware of just how much he enjoyed John's kiss. "Oh! Oh, Sherlock. God, I...I'm sorry, was it the ears? I know that's what does it for me, too. I just, I didn't think. God, and here you are trusting me not to move too fast or put too much pressure on you. I'm so sorry, Sherlock. Really I just, I didn't think."

  Sherlock was so stunned at John's apology that he couldn't breathe. He just stared at him and let him talk. He looked down at himself and tried to make sense of what was happening. He understood the chemical and biological aspects of sex but he had never once experience the urge or need for sexual gratification by another person. He knew he enjoyed being held and kissing John. He enjoyed it quite a bit actually and hoped that this would continue beyond the shady tree in the middle of the park. He knew he would like nothing more than a quiet night in, laying on the couch having a cuddle and kissing John Watson but this...This was unexpected and he had absolutely no idea how to handle it.

  "John, I don't know what to do!" He said. His eyes portrayed terror and uncertainty and even shyness. "Sherlock, I promise you, it'll go away. Just maybe try thinking of something else? Mrs. Hudson? Biscuits and tea? Your brother?" John was laughing now, not at him but at the fact that this was exactly his thought process when he was attempting to rid himself of just such an obvious arousal. "John, I...It's just that it...Well, I don't know if I want it to...go away." John's eyebrows shot up in completely surprise. "Oh? You. Well, I mean, you're enjoying it then?" Sherlock blushed. He actually blushed. He looked away and bit his lip and looked as though he was in pain. "Sherlock, how about we go home. yeah? Maybe it'll be gone by then. That way we don't draw any unwanted attention to ourselves." Sherlock looked back at him and he appeared sad. "John, I don't want to go home." "Sherlock, I understand but trust me, I just think that it would be beneficial for both of us. Don't you?" Sherlock shook his head but said "Fine, John. We'll go home. You'll make tea and sit down and watch crap telly and I'll muck around and try to find another damn experiment to run. Everything will go back to normal and we can pretend this whole fucking thing never happened. Come on. Let's go!"

  John should be mad. Sherlock was. He was downright furious. John, however, was enjoying angry Sherlock because he knew exactly why he was angry. He had dealt with it himself on numerous occasions. Left unsatisfied, especially when you're first starting to understand your urges, your body can lash out in unexpected ways. Such is the life of a teenager. Only, Sherlock was a grown man. A grown man, who until ten minutes ago, had never been kissed and had never felt arousal caused by another person before. John knew exactly why he was mad and John loved it. He wasn't heartless or cruel. Quite the opposite actually. John had a plan. One that, he knew, would blow Sherlock's mind, and heart, wide open and at that moment, John couldn't wait to get back to 221B.

  "Let's take a cab, shall we. I want to get there as fast as possible." Sherlock gave him a look of disgust that John just smiled and laughed off. "Your mood changed quickly. What's the problem, Doctor Watson? Sudden mid-life sexual identity crisis too much for the good Doctor to handle? Coupled with the fact that you're having it with the world's only 36 year old virgin consulting detective and there you have it. A recipe for the whole of London to use as leverage for the 'Is-he or Isn't-he' gay topic that you oh so obsessively worry about? Really, if you didn't want anything to happen you shouldn't have let me hold your hand. Bloody, soft hands. Ridiculous jumpers and stupidly, adorable face. Should not have kissed him at all. Bloody stupid that was. Look where it got me. On the way back to Baker Street to go on about life as usual. Bored and alone and now he'll go on like nothing changed and make his stupid tea and sit in his stupid chair and write in his stupid blog. Bloody idiots, they all are. Haven't got a clue as to what really happened. Ridiculous comments and bloody, stupid questions. If they want to know what really happened all they have to do is ask me. I could give them the facts but noooo let's read it all on John's blog. Bloody, romantic, ruining everything. Cocaine was not like this. Now Mycroft probably knows too. Bloody CCTV cameras everywhere. Can't wait until he comes round to torture me. Foolishness, all of it."

  John couldn't stop the laughing and giggling as they got into the cab. If anything Sherlock's mumbling rant had made him all the more adorable. He got so defensive when he was mad. He knew to take none of what he said to heart and, in fact, he quite enjoyed listening to the younger man's ramblings. Sherlock hadn't even noticed they arrived until John nudged him and smiled.

  "Right then, home at last." He said to the younger. "I suppose you expect me to pay, as well, John?" John thought about it and nodded. "Yeah, that would be nice actually. "Bloody cabs, we could have walked you know, it wasn't even that far. lazy git." He threw the money at the cabby and John apologized and climbed out after him.

  Sherlock was unlocking the door and still rambling and when they got inside they walked the stairs in partial silence. Sherlock was still rambling when they got inside of 221B and John had just stopped and waited for him to turn around. Sherlock decided to flop down onto the sofa in his typical, overly dramatic way. John smirked and walked over to sit down as well.

  "Shove over, yeah? I want to sit down, as well." Sherlock shifted his legs so John could sit and then plopped them on top of John's lap. He had stopped his ramblings, for a second, and John asked. "You done yet?" Sherlock just glared at him and started a whole new rant. "Stupid flat, should have brought my skull today. Would have been easier. At least I wouldn't have to put up with...mph!" John had ceased all talking with his lips meeting Sherlock's. He pulled back just long enough to say "Will you bloody well shut up already. I can do more here than I can at the park and to be quite honest I am getting sick of being fucking quiet. Is that alright with you?!" Sherlock was shocked. "I thought you..." "Yeah, i gathered that from your twenty minute rant just now. Maybe if you'd just asked why I wanted to come home you could have saved yourself the trouble." Sherlock didn't know what to say, his mind was everywhere at once, so he managed the only thing he could. "Again! Again, John. God, please, ears and all, please, John. Again!!"

  John growled deep in his throat and lunged for Sherlock. There kiss was hot and heavy with need. Both men craving the other man's lips. They wrapped there arms around each other and their hands were gripping the others backs and shoulders in desperation and pleasure. Fingers digging in and nails marking flesh and teeth biting and tongues licking and sucking. John started to breathe heavier and he hadn't even realized he had been laying on top of Sherlock until he felt the the other man's breath hitch. John pulled his lips away momentarily.

  "Sherlock, do you want to stop?" Sherlock thought about it for a second and when he was about to answer yes, John moved in such a way that scattered his thoughts and made it impossible. "Sherlock? You okay?" "No! God no, don't stop. Please?" John smiled and continued to kiss Sherlock.

  His lips left a trail of pleasure from his mouth, against his jaw, nibbling and flicking his tongue. Then to his ear. He paused a moment, debating and when he felt, rather than heard, the other man whimper below him he smiled and continued on. He playfully teased the other man's ear lobe with his fingers and nails. Dragging his nails along the inner shell of his ear and the up and over the outer part. He dragged his nails down the outside shell and then grabbed his earlobe and gave a soft tug with his nails. Sherlock's reaction was immediate.

  "Ahh God!!" Sherlock bucked his hips and drove himself into John's hip bone moaning loudly, obscenely when he did it. "More!! More, John. More, more!!" John couldn't believe Sherlock's insatiable appetite. He smiled and whispered into his already incredibly sensitive ear. "What would you like me to do now, Mr. Holmes?" "I...I don't...God, I don't know. John, please...Please!! Look at me, you have me at your mercy! Please?!" "My God, Sherlock! You're fucking insatiable aren't you?" Sherlock growled at the lack of contact between John's mouth and his ear. "Shut up, John! Doesn't your mouth have something better to do right now?"

  John grinned, satisfaction bubbling inside of him and dancing with lust, love and damn good appreciation that he was the one making Sherlock feel this way. He was the one showing Sherlock what sexual want was all about. So he continued and there was no more debate and commentary. He was going to leave Sherlock to figure this one out on his own. So, he did what he was about to in the first place. John pushed his tongue against Sherlock's ear and licked a trail from the inner shell to the outside, down and grabbed his ear lobe with his tongue and teeth. He held it between sharp teeth, digging in, just enough, and using his tongue further tease the poor man as he flicked it back and forth against the bottom of his ear lobe. Sherlock shook, cried, moaned and bucked. Basically, he just fucked John's hip with his cock, grinding hard and begging with screams and moans of satisfaction. He begged for more, for freedom from the torture he was blissfully enduring, loving, and he begged and screamed for the release he so desperately craved. John bit harder, flicked lighter, softer strokes and then ripped his teeth away with a sideways jerk that made the younger man rip his nails down John's back. John growled, loudly and arched his back and pressed his own arousal hard into Sherlock's leg.

  Then he did what he knew would be a game changer for Sherlock. For if his ear was this sensitive he knew this next bit might send him over the edge. John, ever the curious one when it came to sex, decided the he wanted to find out just how far he could push Sherlock and then watch him fall apart in his arms. He lunged for the hollow of Sherlock's throat. Biting, licking, gentle, at first, soft and easy then he increased pressure. He started to kiss hard, suck and bite. He kissed and bit and sucked and licked looking for exactly the right spot. He knew he'd hit it when Sherlock screamed out and threw his hands into John's hair. He was pushing him back with one hand and pulling him closer with the other. Begging him to stop and keep going with his hands. He stopped breathing, he stopped moving. He stopped responding. Sherlock was on the edge and John knew it. So John decided to bring him over and make him understand exactly what his body was meant to do. What his body was meant to feel like and meant to experience. John adjusted himself, he was laying on top of Sherlock. His hips were hovering just over Sherlock's and he paused his assault on the younger man's neck just long enough to make eye contact and ask...

  "Do you trust me, Sherlock?" Sherlock's eyes were heavy with passion and need. His voice hoarse from screams of pleasure and moans of satisfaction. He couldn't speak so he simply nodded his agreement and moaned again when John's lips met his in a soft, warm and lingering kiss. "Thank you, Sherlock and I'm sorry, in advance but things are about to get a little messy, for both of us." Sherlock gave him a puzzled look and began to respond when John's teeth on his neck ended his ability to speak.

  John bit and licked and kissed. He was sucking in flesh and abusing it with his teeth and Sherlock's moans of approval just motivated him even more to keep it up. Marks be damned, he didn't much care right now. He was still hovering over Sherlock's body and when he tongued just the right spot on his neck Sherlock's whole body arched up and that just happened to be the moment that John's ground down. Their two bodies became separate beings altogether. Sherlock's neck continually assaulted by John's lips, tongue and teeth and Sherlock's cock being tortured blissfully by John's own throbbing cock grinding hard up and down, back and forth harder and harder and faster. Sherlock felt something pull inside him. A deep seated, foreign need for something more. He felt his own body respond without the knowledge, or permission, of his brain. He was grinding himself harder and faster against John Watson's cock and he felt John doing the same. It was erratic now, neither man able to control there bodies any longer. It was desperation, need, want and an aching that, until today, Sherlock had never known himself to posses. He felt it then, the ache, the deep need, the throbbing and desperate calling of his body until finally something inside him snapped and it must have hit John at the same time because they both shouted so loud they fell silent. Eyes locking and hips gone perfectly still, almost fused together, tight and hard as they were flooded with pleasure and understanding and happiness and satisfaction. Sherlock wanted to freeze this moment. To live in it forever and for this feeling, this moment, with John, to never stop, never end. For nothing, not cocaine, not heroine, not a case, not any experiment, nothing in this world could have ever made him happier and feel more satisfied and completely blissed out than this moment right now, with John Watson.

  Sherlock often pondered what sex with John would be like. He knew the chemistry, the science and the biology of it all. That does not allot for the emotional connection he had been experiencing right now. In this one endorphin's fueled moment of sex and want and need and satisfaction he felt like John had just let go and unmasked every deep dark secret he's ever had to Sherlock. Sherlock felt like he'd just made a silent vow to keep those secrets locked away in his heart for nobody to ever find them but him. Sherlock had never felt such intensity before. His mind though, was quickly brought to a halt when John sighed and his lips met Sherlock's for one final soft, lazy kiss. Sherlock rested his body back down against the sofa and John rested on top of him, unmoving, uncaring and in complete bliss.

  "Sorry about your pants." John said after what felt like ages spent in the perfect afterglow of orgasm. "Don't apologize to me, John. Take that up with the dry cleaners." Sherlock responded with a giggle. "God Sherlock, I know we need to clean up but I don't want to move." Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and brought his lips up to kiss him. "Five more minutes, John." John kissed him back softly and then nuzzled into his chest falling swiftly into sleep and muttered. "Five more minutes, Sherlock," as sleep took them both.


End file.
